Those We'll Never Forget
by TwinsOfNeptune
Summary: A series of post-battle of Hogwarts one-shots, about various characters. Chap.1: George's life after the War. Concerning Fred's wand, the tombstone and Ron's phobia of spiders. Chap.2: "He's so like Fred. But he isn't him...and he'll never be." Chap.3: "You do know your mother, don't you?" Chap.4:"Look...at...me..." Totally canon. Please give it a try. R&R!
1. Chapter 1 Fred's Wand

**Hi readers! This our first one-shot and also first Harry Potter fanfiction. I (Amber) completed this alone and Hazel might write one if she has time too. For our old friends, we hope you enjoy our HP fanfic! It's a whole new style different from the PJ ones. For new readers, just give it a try! :D**

**-Amber-**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any characters of the Harry Potter series.**

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Fred's Wand

It was a clear spring morning, just after a sprinkle of rain. The small but bright sun hung on a crystal blue canvas of a sky. As George strode over the new grass towards a familiar spot under two old crooked orange trees, the smell of dew and fresh soil filled the air.

Sitting himself down in front of the marble slab that he visited everyday, George pulled out two wands. The wands were identical: same length, same design. They were made out of wood from the same dogwood with heartstrings of the same dragon as cores. One of them belonged to George, while the owner of the other lay at rest beneath the spring earth. Picking out his own without hesitation, George began the usual procedure-cleaning the tombstone and Vanishing the flowers from unknown mourners.

_Fred would have never wanted sympathy. _George thought listlessly, waving his wand to clear away the last of the withering petals. When he finished all the work, he stared at the tombstone, absentmindedly twirling the other wand in his hand. Whether to return the extra wand turned out to be a problem well worth contemplating. A breeze whistled past, rustling George's fiery red hair in the process, but he took no notice. Lost in memories, George was back in the good times when Fred was still alive.

"Hurry!" Fred urged as he poked his head out of the bedroom door to see if anyone was coming.

George flipped through the dusty thick volume of _Advanced Transfiguration_ as fast as he could without tearing the brittle yellow pages. "Got it!" He hissed, beckoning his twin to come.

Together, the identical young boys poured over the text, a lesson on transfiguring inanimate objects into animate ones. Unfortunately they hardly understood any of the exquisite printings. It was no wonder as the twins were only a little over five years old, barely able to read properly. Though no child wizard would have been able to perform any magic, much less than advanced spells, the Weasley twins had confidence in their geniuses. Moreover, they wanted "revenge" on their baby brother Ron, who was just three and had broken Fred's favorite toy broom. They had even stolen the wand of one of their older brothers to fight for their "justice".

"D'you think it'd work?" George whispered, glancing at the cot where "Ickle Ronnie" (as their mother called him) was blissfully asleep.

Fred took out the battered old wand and tried to understand the instructions as much as he could again. Furrowing his eyebrows and scrunching his nose in concentration, he pointed the wand at the worn teddy bear in Ron's arms and pronounced the spell slowly. Practically shaking in anticipation, the twins held their breath and waited. However, nothing happened. Little Ron gurgled contently in his sleep.

"We failed?" Fred exclaimed, "Darn!"

George checked the toy bear again and slapped his brother on the back, saying solemnly: "Yes, mate, we failed."

The two boys looked at each other and came to an agreement immediately. "Let's try again!"

This time, as Fred pointed the borrowed wand again, both boys made out the magical words with difficulty. But once again, nothing followed. George slammed the book shut in exasperation. Fred glared at the wand as if it was because the wand had malfunctioned that they failed. Just as they were about to give up, the teddy bear gave a shudder. The twins froze, watching in amazement. The toy in Ron's arm hardened, darkened and morphed in the most horrifying way. Within seconds, it a huge spider that was lying in Ron's bed.

"Wicked!" Fred managed to breath. George nodded speechlessly. Finding each other's eyes again, they cracked into mirroring mischievous grins.

But poor Ron was the victim. Waking up to a strange sensation of prickling on his face, the youngest son of the Weasley family at first couldn't make a sound. Coming out of his daze, Ron screamed and fainted at once. Thus began Ron's life-long phobia of spiders.

The pranksters laughed off their heads at their success afterwards, although they each earned a spanking from a very scary Molly Weasley for it.

A nearby sparrow's screeching jolted George back into reality. Standing up, George cleared his sore throat, which hurt the way it always did when he was trying to swallow down sobs. Clenching the twin wands in his hand, George walked away with one last lingering look at the epitaph which consists of only two words:

Mischief Managed

George had made up his mind not to bury the wand, as Fred's punishment for leaving him so very alone in this big, empty world.

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**Well, that's about all. How did you like it? **

**Yeah, I know it seems a little far-fetched that Fred could have performed such an advanced Transfiguration spell, but anger stimulates power, right? **

**Please review and tell me your thoughts! **

**-A-**


	2. Chapter 2 Fred, Freddie and George

**Hello there! My second one-shot! It's still about the Weasley twins, but more about Fred the second. Everyone knows George never got over Fred's death, but it seems to me that many fanfic writers believe George would mistake his son with his twin (either accidentally or purposefully). But, being a twin myself, I disagree. Fred (the first) was George's twin—the person George grew up with, the person he watched dying. There's no way he'd allow someone to take his place, even if it's his own son. **

**Anyway, this collection of one-shots won't be updated regularly because we don't know when we'll have the impulsion to write something short. Well, one at a time. I present you…**_**Fred, Freddie and George**_**.**

**-Amber-**

Fred, Freddie and George

"Wow, you're more and more like Fred every time I see you!" Uncle Ron ruffled my fiery red hair, eyeing me in wonder. We were at the Burrow, the whole family gathering for our annual New Year's feast.

I grinned and replied, as I always do: "But, I _am _Fred, Uncle. My name is Fred."

Ron laughed. "You know what I mean!"

Of course I did. I've only heard it about a thousand times. He was referring to my deceased uncle, my father's twin. I continued joking with Uncle but secretly, I stole a glance at my Dad. He was chatting with Aunt Hermione, as if nothing happened. He could've fooled everyone, but not me. I could see he had heard my conversation. His jaws were tight, though hardly noticeable, and his smiles didn't reach his eyes. My excitement of seeing all my family for New Year's Day faded immediately, like my insides suddenly froze.

My father was always like this. He could appear casual and cheerful, but it never lasted long. Something would come up and change his mood faster than flipping a poker card, which usually was at least it seems like that to me. No one hardly notices it, as my Dad was super good at pretending. But I know. He used to be a lot more conspicuous. Even he seems better, I knew in the inside, nothing has changed. I didn't realize I had been zoning out of the conversation with Uncle Ron until he rapped on my forehead: "Hey, you Ok?"

"What? Oh. Of course!" I replied quickly, putting on the brightest grin I could manage.

Thankfully, before any awkward questions were asked, James, my closest friend and Uncle Harry's eldest son, crashed into me, yelling: "Come on, Freddie! I'm having a bet with Teddy that he can't turn into an old woman. You can't miss this!"

I smiled apologetically at Ron and ran after James. Leaving the room, I felt Dad's eyes trailing me, but I didn't turn back.

xxx

For the rest of the day, I tried my best to forget the incident. Fortunately, being with my overly large crowd of cousins and uncles and aunts and all sorts of family friends made it easier. By the end of the day, I was laughing hysterically and pranking all my other cousins with James, throwing all my troubles to the back of my head. Before I knew it, it was nearly time for dinner. Being the true son of one of the famous Weasley (used-to-be) jokers, I decided to pull one last stunt.

"Dinner's ready everybody! Come on!" My mother called from the dining room. She had been helping Grandma Molly out, along with Aunt Hermione and Aunt Ginny. Instantly, all the kids, men and the few remaining women flocked into the dining room, chattering and chuckling loudly.

As everyone took seats, I slid next to Hugo. The little kiddo was bright-eyed, almost slobbering over the delicious feast. I pointed my wand at the chair behind him and muttered quietly. A transfiguration spell and some simple charms would do the trick. I know, I am only 14 and not allowed to use magic outside school, but heck, I found out the Ministry could never know who really did magic in a household years ago. A little fun wouldn't do any harm.

I looked up quickly to see if anyone saw me. Luckily, no one did but James, who was watching wide eyed and trying hard to constrain his laugh.

Minutes later, Hugo turned around and grabbed the chair behind him—the one I performed magic on. He plopped down all excitedly…or rather, crashed down right through it onto the floor, I mean.

"Wha-?" The kid stared around in confusion, his legs still sticking out of the chair's remaining frame. Everyone's attention was on him. Seeing his face, James burst into laughter, and I couldn't help it much longer before following suit. Both of us laughed so hard that the other kids started laughing too and some of the adults had to fake coughs to hide their amusement. Uncle Ron lifted his youngest son off the floor easily, his shoulders shaking with laughter, even though his son was fuming. A collective gasp passed through the people nearby. I smirked to myself. The chair appeared absolutely normal, brand new, even. Baby Lily toddled over and poked the seat of the chair, only to have her finger pass right through it.

"Who did this?" Aunt Hermione demanded, as she undid my magic and fixed the chair with a quick swipe of her wand. Of course, James, that traitor, had to point directly at me.

I shrugged innocently: "Just to lift the New Year's spirits." Hermione pretended to scold me but I knew she wasn't angry.

"That was a good one, son, though I still have to ground you for a week." Dad chortled, his eyes twinkling in humor. My grin, if possible, grew even larger. It may sound cheesy, but yeah, I like to see my Dad happy. Part of the reasons why I prank so much was it could make Dad laugh. But of course, the main reason was I just couldn't get enough of the sweet, sweet pleasure of tricking someone.

But good times never last, experience says.

Grandpa Arthur slapped me on the back and boomed: "Sure it was! Worthy of your namesake!" People smiled at the comparison but I instinctively snapped my head around towards Dad. No surprise, the light in his eyes dimmed. It was even worse than that time in the morning, because he didn't bother to stay put any longer and excused himself into the kitchen.

As usual, no one noticed. Mom noticed though, as she was well accustomed to this kind of fake image, and with a worried look, followed him. Realizing this would be an opportunity to hear some explanation, I snuck after them, taking care that no one saw me. Hiding behind the door, I heard my parents argue.

"George, you've got to stop doing that."

"Doing what? I'm just getting a drink of water."

"Please, save it. It happens every time…whenever someone links Freddie with Fred."

"I-"

"Get angry and walk away?"

"I don't get angry and walk away!"

"Don't you think Freddie might have noticed? Even though Ginny or Molly or everybody else in the family are convinced you're OK, we know you're not. What if he thinks it's his fault?"

"Just come out of it. I know it's hard, but he's been dead for years. It's time to move on. You should have, long ago."

"I…I'm sorry. It's just that…he's _so _like Fred. He looks like him. He acts like him. But he isn't him…and he'll never be..."

Dad's voice cracked at the end of the sentence, but my heart cracked with it. The sadness, the pain, the anguish…I don't think I'll ever be able to describe it.

"But I'm not like Fred. I'm like _you_, Dad." The words slipped out, soft as an April's wind, before I could stop myself.

My parents' conversation jerked to a stop. They turned and I had to let go of the door to reveal myself.

My father stared at me in silence. Was he shocked? I didn't know. But what I did know, as he strode across the room and folded me into a hug, was that I was glad I spoke up.

"You're right, Freddie." Dad said, "I'm sorry. Of course, you're my son. My son."

**Hmm, how do you like it? Of course, this story doesn't mean George have gotten over Fred's death. He'll never achieve that, but still, he could improve. Please tell me your thoughts by writing them down in that cute little review box!**

**-A-**


	3. Chapter 3 Bubble-gum Pink

**Hello! Nice to show my face in again! I'm extremely sorry that our Percy Jackson fanfic hasn't been updated for a long time and I won't be able to start chapter 13 until next weekend. But as a replacement, I've wrote a one-shot for Harry Potter. It's about Andromeda Tonks and Teddy Lupin. Enjoy!**

**-Amber-**

Bubble-gum Pink

Andromeda woke early. The house was dark and silent. She pulled apart the curtains to see a light gray sky slowly turning pink at the edges—the day was beautiful. Andromeda turned back into the room and crept upon the crib besides her own empty bed. A baby with light brown hair and bright blue eyes looked up at her, gurgling quietly. While other babies woke up in their mothers' bosoms, little Teddy was used to opening eyes to no one in sight.

The aged but still graceful lady smiled in spite of herself as she picked up her grandson lovingly. Of course, Teddy had his own nursery, where he used to sleep. But lately Andromeda had moved his crib to her side. After all, the house was so big and empty. She didn't want Teddy to be alone—_she_ didn't want to be alone. Tidying herself up and changing Teddy out of his pajamas, Andromeda went downstairs with the baby in her arms. The usual morning bustle started: making coffee, preparing warm mild for Teddy, fixing herself a simple breakfast. She busied in the kitchen singled handedly, as Teddy was secured in the crook of one of her arms.

After pouring herself a cup of fresh-made coffee, Andromeda glanced down at the child. He was dozing off blissfully, unaware of his grandmother's gaze. His soft brown hair had changed color—a natural phenomenal for a Metamorphmagus. The sight provoked a rush of grief from Andromeda's chest. She forced herself to turn away without a word and went to check if the milk was ready.

With the warm bottle in her hand, Andromeda gently shook the baby awake. Sucking on the milk contently, Teddy subconsciously changed his hair into a greenish blue, his eyes emerald. "Mmm, you really like this look, don't you? It's been the 7th time in this week." Andromeda murmured to the boy who couldn't answer back. Her voice sounded hollow and far-away. No words were spoken much in the house nowadays, unless Harry Potter or the Weasleys dropped by to visit. Andromeda's eyes wandered around the kitchen. Everything was just where it had always been, like nothing had ever happened. Three coffee mugs—a complete set, with different sizes—sat on the counter, but only one was steaming with contents. A jar of acid pops stood on the fridge: acid pops were their favorite, though Andromeda herself never understood what in the sour and acrid taste made them so captivated. They used to eat one everyday, despite that they often had to come to her to have their tongues healed.

A lump formed in Andromeda's throat. She shook her head firmly and chided herself. The pain was still fresh—yes, it had only been a month since they were gone, but she couldn't afford to break down. She had to stay strong for Teddy. She must be there for him.

The baby hiccupped and pushed the milk bottle away. The movement jolted Andromeda back to reality. She managed a cheerful smile and removed the bottle. "Now we're all fed and happy, aren't we? Good, because I'm going to take you to the Burrow today! Isn't that great?"

As if he understood her words, Teddy giggled and gave her a big toothless grin. Suddenly the boy's turquoise blue hair flashed into pink. The plastic bottle fell from Andromeda's hand and clattered onto the floor. It was a bright bubble-gun pink. A pink she hadn't seen since May 2nd. It was the color of _her_. Nymphadora's face, framed her trademark short pink hair, appeared ever so clearly before Andromeda's eyes.

"You do know your mother, don't you?" The aged woman whispered the innocent baby, before finally bursting into tears.

**Aww, it's so sad that Andromeda has lost everyone she loved except for little Teddy. I hope I did her Ok. Please review and tell me your opinions! **

**-Amber-**


	4. Chapter 4 The Worth of Life

**Hiya readers! Another one-shot up fresh and steaming! This one is about one of the most intriguing characters in the HP series—Severus Snape. I hold a great deal of reverence for him and I've always thought I'd wreck him if I tried to write a fanfiction about him. But I just had to do this one. It came up into my mind one day and refused to leave. **

**Anyway, please give it a try and then decide whether I wrecked him or not. **

**-Amber-**

The Worth of Life

He was dying.

He could feel it: not the pain of the wounds on his neck, but the leaking of life itself from his body. He knew it was coming even as the Dark Lord summoned him.

Was he going to die alone? Alone as he always had been. But with a rustle of a cloak being taken off, a boy with wild black hair and round wire-rimmed glasses appeared in front of him. Harry Potter stood over him, bright green eyes staring into his own blank black ones. This boy, this boy who had somehow gradually became the center of his life since Lily was killed, was going to be the last person he saw.

He had hoped he could find a way to get rid of Nagini when he could still do it, but the blow came too fast—so fast that he barely had time to reflect on what was happening, let alone kill the snake. And now he lay on the ground, in a puddle of his own blood. Raising his arm was more difficult than he thought, but he still reached out, seized the front of Harry's robes and pulled him close. His eyesight was going blurry, his thoughts unorganized, but he knew he couldn't give up yet. All these years, he hardened his heart, wrapped himself in several layers of identities, and pushed away all his feelings…just for a handful purposes: to keep Lily Evans' boy alive, to bring down the Dark Lord, to do the few things he could do to make up for her death. But Dumbledore revealed that in the end, to destroy Voldemort, Harry Potter must die. Harry Potter, who Lily loved so much and sacrificed to save, must die. He was too wearied out to rage. He could only laugh bitterly: he was going to fail Lily again, just like all those times he failed when she was alive. However, he wasn't going to just depart from the world without one last shot. He had to make Voldemort pay for killing Lily. This was the only worth of his life.

The boy must know his last task. There was only one way that was guaranteed to tell him everything he had to know. As much as he hated the idea all his memories, all his treasured times with Lily, were going to be exposed to Potter's son, he forced himself to let them out. Something more than blood, ice cold, leaked out of his wounds, ran down from his mouth and his ears, and slipped down from his eyes, eyes that hadn't formed a single drop of tear for decades. Though he couldn't see it, he knew it was silvery blue, neither liquid nor gas.

"Take…it…Take…it…"

Forming words was painful. Luckily, the Granger girl who appeared after Harry was quick to grasp the situation. Conjuring a flask quickly and shoving it into Harry's hand, Granger could barely lift her eyes to watch his face. Harry lifted the substance into the flask with his wand. Eyes never leaving the flask, he felt life ebbing away. Whether Harry would hate him more or forgive him after obtaining the truth, he had no concern. He had done all he could, and that was what mattered. His hand slackened.

There was only one thing left that he wanted to do. He whispered: "Look…at…me."

Harry Potter's green eyes found his black ones. He was drowning in the eyes so green they seemed like to be made of jade. The dim, dusty shack faded. The figures of the Weasley boy and the Granger girl faded. Potter's face, almost identical to the insufferable father's, faded. What were left were Lily Evan's beautiful green eyes, the eyes that captured him the first time he caught sight of them. Did Lily forgive him for calling her that word? Did she forgive him for giving up mending the crack between them? Did she forgive him for joining the Death Eaters and endangering her loved son? Would she forgive him for failing to save her son, just as he failed to save her, all those years ago?

All his senses faded. Lily's green eyes faded.

_Something in the depths of Severus Snape's eyes vanished, leaving them fixed, blank and empty. The hand holding Harry thudded to the floor, and Snape moved no more._

**So…how was it? You might think it's pretty boring since there's not much that hadn't been written in the original series, but I wanted to do this scene again from Snape's point of view. Do you think I pulled it off? Please give me some feedback! Reviews can motivate me to write more and update faster! **

**-Till next time, **

** Amber-**


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